The Longbottom Affair
by mad one
Summary: The secret life of Neville Longbottom...


The young man blended perfectly with the dark wall he leant against. The darkness wrapped around his face like a mask while his black cloak swallowed his thin frame. Peering keenly down the deserted street, a sudden noise made him stiffen sharply and lean back as though he could merge with the wall itself. After a few minutes he shook his head and pushed himself out from the shadows, taking off down the street at a brisk walk. Three-quarters of the way down the road, he stopped and turned sharply down an alley. Another quick turn brought him to a wooden door. The youth knocked twice in quick succession, paused, then knocked again, the door opened a fraction and a voice could be heard.

"Well, what do you want?" the voice was cold and harsh. "You gave the code but I don't know you." Suspicion etched a pale face. The young man frowned and gave the narrow opening a _look_. A few seconds passed and then the door opened fully allowing the him to enter. The door shut behind him without a sound..

Not much later the door opened again, this time with a loud bang as it flew wide and sprang nearly off its hinges. To an observer it would have been immediately apparent that something had changed in the alley. Any light emitting from the windows had always been blocked by darkened curtains that were permanently drawn. Tonight, however, bright light streamed out the front door and the figure of the young man could be seen racing down a corridor, another figure close behind him and an alarming looking man dressed in polished leather in pursuit. Reaching the open door, the two young men hurled themselves into the lane way seconds before the building, with the man still inside, vanished completely, without a trace to suggest it had been moldering there for twenty years.

Neville Longbottom woke with a start as Ron Weasly entered their room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and sprawled inelegantly across his bed. Detention for the second evening this week was obviously taking its toll. Harry Potter rolled over on his own bed and muttered incoherently in the direction of Ron's feet.

"Weh yuh beh? Watd teh mihniht!" He slurred.

"What was that?" Ron wasn't in the mood for deciphering drivel at the moment.

"I said: Where have you been? I waited until midnight!" Harry enunciated pedantically, shaking his head to clear it and sitting up slowly.

"I've been at detention, remember. Snape stacking it in a pile of slime that I _may_ have been responsible for_ accidentally _dropping wasn't a good start to the year! He made me wash his clothes! By hand! How disgusting is that?" Ron shuddered at the memory. Neville let out a deafening snore which ended the conversation and succeeded in startling him swake. He jerked and appeared to tangle himself so thouroughly that he couldn't sit up. Untieing himself took several minutes but on accomplishing this he sat up and stared at the gaping Harry and Ron.

"Sorry, I keep doing that! I didn't mean to interrupt you guys. I'll just go back to sleep shall I? Is that okay? Okay. Goodnight." He sorted himself out and lay back down beginning to snore again almost immediately.

Harry and Ron shook their heads in amazement.

"I swear, I don't know how Neville could be more strange. Some of the things he does..." Harry whispered to Ron. "I don't know how he'll ever get by in later life. I saw him slide down three flights of stair the other day then smash into a wall. He tripped over his own feet, and now he fell over in his sleep! You have to wonder if something's actually wrong with him sometimes." Ron snorted.

"I think you'll find the word your looking for is 'slow' or maybe even 'uncoordinated'. And I mean that in the nicest possible way." With that final comment Ron and Harry turned out the light and went to bed. In the opposite corner Neville Longbottom opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling smiling slightly to himself. His last action before he went to sleep was to roll over, hitting his head on the end of the bed, clutching a small object tightly in his fist.


End file.
